


Rest

by youcantgettherefromhere



Category: Miami Vice (TV)
Genre: AU, Bisexuality, Late at Night, M/M, Short & Sweet, everything is the same except they’re not cops, no feet apart cause they’re both gay, two bros chillin on a sailboat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29913654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcantgettherefromhere/pseuds/youcantgettherefromhere
Summary: Sonny and Rico get a little time to relax.
Relationships: Sonny Crockett/Ricardo Tubbs
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Rest

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this summer 2020 after binge watching this show during the first lockdown and then realizing I’d rather these two be literally anything besides cops, get into this softness and maaaybe expect some investigative reporter adventures with the two of them

The sailboat bobs gently in its place, moored in between two empty yachts polished so clean they reflect the Miami skyline above the marina. It’s late, not late enough that the city is asleep, but late enough that the Florida heat is taking a few hours off. No rain, no stars that anyone could see from downtown, just the moon, a little breeze, and two men still awake to enjoy it.

The two of them are lying on their backs on the deck of the sailboat. One is resting his head on the other’s stomach, while the other is propping himself up on one elbow, nursing a beer. Both of them are the most relaxed they’ve been in weeks.

They make an unexpected pair, the blond, tanned Southern boy dressed in pastels and the slick New Yorker with the tight curls and the earring, but it works. It’s worked since the first story they were assigned to together, back before they’d spent any sweaty mornings driving from house to office to house for interviews or any loud nights running from their anonymous sources’ bosses.

“Maybe this is why I’m staying in this city,” the New Yorker muses.

“Not the death threats waiting for you back home?” the blond man cracks.

“A little of that, too.”

“They’re not exactly fans of ours anywhere by now,” says the Floridian. “Not even here.”

The air hangs heavy for a moment. The city streets suddenly seem a little more menacing from the bubble of the docks.

“They couldn’t touch me when you came back with me,” the New Yorker says softly, letting his head tip back across his partner’s chest. “You might be a lunatic, but you have a gift for keeping people alive.”

The blond smiles, but not his usual dazzling grin or sardonic smirk. This smile starts when his eyes soften, then the corners of his mouth turn up just the slightest, then he reaches for his beer and takes another sip before it spreads all the way across his face. Then he figures his partner knows him well enough by now that he can let the warmth he’s feeling show, and he looks back at the dark, smooth face gazing up at him.

Two pairs of softly smiling eyes meet, one the color of jade, the other the color of the ocean. Two stars colliding. The Southerner feels something like an electric shock, he stiffens like he does every time he makes such vulnerable eye contact, then he warms up and relaxes into the stare. The New Yorker lets the moment take him over, the opposite of consciously turning on the charm like he does for all the women and a few men he’s tried to seduce. He’s all in for this one and he wants to leap into the warm water of that gaze.

“I love you,” he says.

His lover holds back for a few more seconds, then gives up.

“I love you too.”


End file.
